The Dehumanization of Tom Riddle
by Aenaris
Summary: Realizations lead Tom Riddle down a dark path of his mind.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything related to him.

**A/N:** This is written for _thegoodgirldoll_'s "The Person, The Item, The Room" in which I was given _Tom Riddle_, _a broken shard of glass_, and _a bathroom _and had to write about something terrible happening. I'll admit it's not as terrible as murder or something, but I think an angry, crazy Tom Riddle is pretty scary. To the story!

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**_The Dehumanization of Tom Riddle_**

It was all falling apart around him. Things had taken such a positive turn when Dumbledore had first come to him and told him he was a wizard, that his powers weren't imagined and he could do such great things. Upon being sorted into Slytherin, he had discovered more and more about himself as a person, advancing himself in ways he had scarcely dreamed of. Then had come the disappointment of learning that the name he had been graced with at birth was tainted by the fact that his namesake was in fact a Muggle. He had no desire to associate himself with such filth, especially using such a common name, and fashioned himself one catered solely to him. _Lord Voldemort_.

Now, however, he was faced with the reality that there was more than tied him to that filthy Muggle than just a name. The words of the uncle he had just left echoed though his head. _"I thought you was that Muggle, you like mighty like that Muggle."_ At one point, he had believed it was an advantage that he was handsome, because people were far more likely to cater to those who were attractive. After hearing those words, however, now all he could see was the face of his father looking back at him.

He'd stopped off in a random public bathroom on his way back to the orphanage after murdering the filth that he had the misfortune of being related to, and once there, he'd froze, staring at his reflection in the mirror, the discovery he had just made haunting him, taunting him. Having had no idea what his father looked like, he hadn't really considered that was where he got his appearance from, but now he recognized the dark eyes, the hair, the shape of his nose. All of it looked too familiar to his memory for his liking.

"_You look might like that Muggle."_ Rage built up inside him, and he was tempted to pull out his wand and curse the reflection in front of him, but he held back, knowing that using magic in a Muggle place would be a beacon to the Ministry. Instead, he settled for striking the mirror, shattering the glass with his bare hands, obvious to the minor cuts that resulted, leaving droplets of blood.

Several pieces had fallen out of the frame, leaving only a fraction of the mirror, reflecting a grotesque mockery of his face. The irony of the revelation stood out harshly in his mind; he wanted nothing to do with his father, even going so far as to change his name, and in being cursed with his father's looks, he'd stumbled across the one thing that couldn't be changed.

Or could it? Without much extended thought, he reached down into the sink and picked up the largest shard of the mirror, holding it tightly in his fist, ignoring the bite of pain as the edges cut into his first. Studying his reflection in the slivers of mirror that hadn't fallen out of its frame, he grabbed a chunk of his hair, raised the fragment of glass up and used it to hack off the strands of black that scattered down to the ground. Pleased with the idea, he reached up, slicing more off each time, leaving ragged clumps of black in irregular intervals on his scalp, ignoring the blood running down his arm.

Once he removed all the hair he could successfully grab, he lowered his arms to examine his handiwork. The lack of hair made the resemblance to his father less noticeable, and he raised the fragment of glass to trace it gently down the side of his face. It would be so easy to put a little pressure behind the make-shift blade and destroy the replica of his father, but he had to resist the urge. As much as the idea of scarring appealed to him, Dumbledore was paying far too much attention to him for that not to be noticed, and it would take far too much attention to maintain glamour charms to keep the old man from becoming more suspicious. The hair could easily be resolved before the school year resumed.

Scarring wouldn't take all of the similarities away anyway, for unless he wanted to blind himself, the same eyes would always be staring back at him. No, this is where magic could come in handy. Surely he could find spells to permanently modify his appearance. His little experiment had just proved that he could work with baldness, so it would be easiest to remove it all together than trying to modify it. There had to be be something that could change the appearance of his eyes. The nose would be harder to do, but a partial transfiguration could work, perhaps something reptilian. Yes, that would be a more acceptable characteristic of his heritage. It would frighten people though, and they would be less likely to follow him, no matter how charming he was. That would just mean that instead of working his way up to the public eye while working his nefarious schemes in the background, he would be the one in the background, a phantom in the shadows people feared the presence of.

The idea began to appeal to him more and more. Yes, he would take on a new appearance, one that would make people tremble before him, and that fear would be what he used to rule them. He planned on dominating the wizarding world. He didn't need to appeal to them, he merely needed to give them reason to obey him, and creating a monster that would haunt their minds would surely do that.

Opening his fist, he dropped the mirror fragment back into the sink, and plotted his next step. It would be necessary to go to Hogsmede so he could spell his appearance back to normal and heal himself without the Ministry complaining about magical use in Muggle areas, but the way before him was clear now. He Apparated away with a sinister smirk on his face.


End file.
